


(Time to...)

by dimasilaw



Category: Ensemble stars!
Genre: Domestic, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, I’m in love with them so much, M/M, Not beta read. we die like men, Shinobu has Tourette’s, you can pry this headcanon from my cold dead hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:20:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25130779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimasilaw/pseuds/dimasilaw
Summary: CW: Hospitals, (hypothetical) death mentions.Shinobu breaks his leg and it worries Midori to all hell.
Relationships: Sengoku Shinobu/Takamine Midori
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	(Time to...)

He’s in bed scrolling through Twitter, curtains drawn completely shut, waiting for Shinobu to come home from the store, when—

Speak of the devil. “My ninja love ♡”’s unique, pop-rock ringtone echoes throughout the small room. Midori’s hesitant to press the green “Accept” button. Shinobu? Calling? No way. If Shinobu wanted to ask a question, he would have texted it instead. That boy avoids calls like the plague, unless he’s basically on his deathbed.

His heart sinks. If Shinobu’s calling, there’s a problem. Midori sits up, head spinning. He can hardly focus on what his surroundings look like when he’s focusing on the thought of all the ways his boyfriend could have been injured or killed. Head  _ racing  _ with a million thoughts of what could have happened to him.

He could have been kidnapped. He could have gotten into an accident. He could have  _ died  _ and had someone else use his phone to notify his boyfriend.

Midori accepts the call, pressing the phone to his sweaty ear. He sniffles and tries his hardest to make his voice sound normal, cool, and nonchalant. He hopes it comes out right. “Shinobu-kun?”

“Alas,” a brassy, theatrical voice buzzes on the other end. “This ninja is in the hospital!”

“What?” Midori shakes his head. This has to be a dream. His head spins a wheel of all the horrible things that could have occurred to land Shinobu in the hospital.

He could have been hit by a truck while walking home from the grocery store. He could have been nearly stabbed to death by someone he had an argument with. He could have been shot by that very same person. 

The cycle of thoughts never ends. Midori reminds himself to calm down, and he takes a deep breath, a hand struck to his chest, monitoring his wildly-beating heart. “What happened, Shinobu-kun?”

“Ah, it is but the usual injury. When my leg jerked, I fell off a flight of stairs in the building where the store was and, indeed, I broke my leg,  _ de gozaru _ . The memory is, alas, unclear to me, but one kind person called an ambulance! Now, I have it in a cast, but you need to pick me up from the hospital as yours truly walked to the grocery, if that’s alright!”

“That’s alright.” He springs up from bed and shuffles to the shelf where his spare keys are, circled around a salmon keychain, courtesy of Kanata. He rushes out the door, still in his green-and-white dotted pyjamas and bedroom slippers. “I just worry. How’d it happen?”

Shinobu’s breath is muffled against the phone. His voice sounds exhausted, cutting from one word to the next. Midori can hardly focus on it, dashing from the bedroom to the living room downstairs to leave their quaint townhouse. His footsteps on the stairs echo like the pitter-patter of rain, slippers slapping the stairs at every step.

“It is merely among the usual things that happen to my body.” 

Midori swings the door open, phone in one hand and keys in the other .  It slams shut behind him, making a large, booming noise that makes him jump. He opens the car door the exact same way he’d just opened the townhouse door and jumps in like the wind and scratches his head, realising he hasn’t answered to what Shinobu said more than ten seconds ago. “You mean your—”

“Please don’t say it. I’m still ashamed of it,  _ de gozaru.” _

“You don’t have to be. Let’s have this discussion later. I’m coming. I love you.”

The phone call clicks to a close and Midori shoves his phone into his pocket. Then, he slams his hands on the steering wheel, gripping it tightly. 

Time to head to the hospital.

* * *

“Are you sure it’s alright that I leave you downstairs?” Midori stands behind the black leather couch, hands on his hips. His brows are knitted in a face of concern, mouth in a flat frown. “I have to fix up upstairs, but I don’t want to leave you alone down here.”

Shinobu’s leg is wrapped up in its thick cast, up on a stool set before the couch. He swivels his head back, neck cranking toward Midori. He grins like starlight on a cool, windy evening. “Yes, this ninja will be fine! You can trust me,  _ de gozaru. _ ”

Midori smiles reluctantly and walks upstairs to do his daily cleaning. The bedsheets need changing, but that’s about it.

_ Will he really be safe? _

_ What if he has a bad fall again and hits something else this time? _

_ Maybe I shouldn’t have let him go to the grocery by himself when he himself said his limbs were out of control today.  _

_ It’s my fault. _

He hauls a fluffy, foul-smelling bedsheet from the bedroom to the wooden crate outside. He’ll bring this to the laundromat tomorrow, since Shinobu can’t. The thoughts haunt him as he does, springing up in between thoughts of productivity.

_ He looked like a mess this morning. His neck was springing in directions I didn’t think were humanly possible. I didn’t know a person’s arm could jerk in that direction either. I should have suggested he stay home.  _

Midori pulls a fitted sheet over the bed, tucking each corner of the sheet under the mattress. The bookshelf in front of the bed catches his eye, clean and filled with manga about ninjas and pictures of Midori and Shinobu and pictures of Ryuseitai. That reminds him: he should fix the bookshelf downstairs too. 

_ No, it wasn’t my fault. Shinobu-kun himself decided he was fine and could go to the grocery. It’s not my fault that happened. That was entirely out of everyone’s control, and it isn’t like anyone wanted him to fall. It’s a minor injury, it’ll heal in a month or so. That is, if he relaxes like he’s supposed to. _

One more tuck. Midori’s all done with the bedsheets. An anxious feeling lingers in the corner of his brain and refuses to settle, so he does the deep breathing exercises that he knows so intimately. 

He stands up straight in front of the bed. His body feels icky and sticky and gross from wearing the same pair of pyjamas all day, driving, fixing, walking. He takes a deep breath in, and a deep breath out. 

Time to fix the bookshelves.

* * *

When Midori comes downstairs, Shinobu is standing up and sweeping the floor. Midori is frozen in his tracks. He didn’t think Shinobu would try to be “useful”. His leg is obviously trembling. No, legs. Both of Shinobu’s legs are trembling as he sweeps up some dust off the floor.

“Shinobu-kun, what are you doing?”

Shinobu pauses. “I’m sweeping the floor,  _ de gozaru.  _ I need to be useful around the household even with a broken leg.”

“What the fuck—fucking—stop. Sit down.”

Shinobu puts his hands up in defence. “Okay, okay, I’ll sit down.” He sets down the broom and dustpan in the middle of the living room, hobbles to the couch, and sits down, leg stretched up on the stool. “You don’t need to curse at me.”

Midori slaps a hand on his forehead, shaking his head. So he’s fucked up again. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I want you to recover fast.” He walks to the couch and sits next to Shinobu, who’s pouting with his brows furrowed and his arms wrapped around himself. The leather clings to him, sticking like glue. “You broke your leg less than, what, two hours ago? You’ll only complicate its recovery if you’re walking around and working.”

Shinobu looks at Midori. Not in the eye, but in the neck. His cheeks are peony-coloured. “All I want is to be useful,  _ de gozaru.  _ Thank you for apologising, though. Your apology is duly accepted!”

Midori makes a gesture with two hands, palms up, that should look like ‘what the fuck?’ but comes out more as ‘come on, listen to me’, and says, “You don’t have to be useful, Shinobu-kun. You are never a burden to me, and I really don’t mind taking care of you even when you’re injured. You support me when I have my moments, so I’ll support you when you have your troubles too. It’s a fair exchange.”

“But this is the third time I’ve injured myself because of...that.” Shinobu stares down at his leg. The broken one jerks up, and Midori winces, trying his hardest not to react. That’s got to hurt. “Of course, this is the first time anything has been broken,  _ de gozaru.  _ But the other two times made us masters of treating wrist sprains and splinters. I didn’t want to have a third time, I swear!”

Midori hugs Shinobu warmly, pulling his arms around him and pressing his body to his. He takes in Shinobu’s smell and feel, adoring the soft texture of his skin as he brings him closer to him. He wonders if this can get any closer. “It’s okay with me that you get injured sometimes. I signed up for this, don’t worry. I sincerely don’t mind taking care of you when this happens.”

Shinobu brings his arms around Midori, rubbing his hands up and down the thick T-shirt fabric. It’s soft and tickles Midori’s back, and he knows the texture makes Shinobu feel calmer. “But I’m a burden to you. I indeed try my hardest to suppress it around you,  _ de gozaru.  _ I don’t want you to notice how bad I am! That’d be sad.”

Midori’s mouth hangs open, eyes bugging out from his skull. He holds Shinobu’s shoulders with a death grip that presses his nails into his silky shirt. The pressure leaves his fingers red and numb. “What? You never needed to suppress this sort of thing around me. I know you’re ashamed enough that you don’t want me saying its name, but I never imagined you would try to push it back around me. You don’t have to.”

“But I feel like I have to,  _ de gozaru _ ! You could ask questions, or you could think I’m some sort of freak. I am strange enough considering my interest in all these niche topics nobody cares to listen to, but thinking I’m sincerely also a disaster neurologically sounds like something I don’t want to lay bare in front of others. I can’t, Midori-kun. I simply can’t.”

He chuckles, running his hand through Shinobu’s smooth hair. “First of all, I absolutely adore listening to you talk about history. You stopped around the Warring States Period last ramble, and I seriously want to hear more about the ninjas’ relationship with both the general populace and the daimyō. Second of all, I don’t mind you laying it bare around me. You can be as open as you want with me. I’m not judgmental, and we  _ are  _ supposed to be honest with each other.”

Shinobu sniffles, holding onto Midori tighter, squeezing him like he’s a plush toy. “It has been holding me back quite a lot. I’m scared to touch things in the house because I’m terrified I’ll drop them. I’m scared people will judge me for it,  _ de gozaru.  _ I know you shouldn’t, and the rest of Ryuseitai shouldn’t, but it terrifies me anyway. I am truly, truly sorry for unloading it on you! I just don’t know...I really don’t know.”

“You’re just as anxious as me, huh?” He laughs. Shinobu mirrors his laugh in response, pressing his chin against Midori’s shoulder. “I don’t know how to comfort you, exactly, since I haven’t experienced any of the things you experience. I would never judge you for it, and neither would any of our friends. I love you so much.”

His voice is small and muted, emerging through sniffs and hiccups. “I love you too.”

“Would a kiss from me make anything better?”

“Maybe not now.” Shinobu shrugs. “Hug me tighter, though.”

Midori tightens his arms around Shinobu. Shinobu smells like lavender and peonies and fresh vegetable produce. He can hear Shinobu’s heart racing a million a minute. Midori dives into him, burying his head in his neck and nuzzling it. He rubs his hair against Shinobu’s peach fuzz-dotted cheek, inviting a giggle from him. 

“I support you through everything, you know that, right?” Midori says, choking on tears.

“I know. I support you too,  _ de gozaru. _ ”

They are locked in each other, two bodies slotting together in a position that completely makes sense to them, like all the stars in the sky aligned to make Shinobu and Midori simply fit together. This is a good position, and an amazingly good hug. It is safe. It is warm. It is secure. 

Time to cuddle for hours.

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU ANGELO FOR INSPIRING ME TO WRITE MIDORI COMFORTING SHINOBU!!! :DD
> 
> fuck state fascism! :)


End file.
